The Myth of Positive Thinking

I have recently been involved in a personal development coaching programme. In many ways it is very useful, and I have learned a lot from it. It has helped me improve some aspects of my life, especially relationships, self-expression and  confidence.

However, a problem I have with it is that once you get involved you get constant pressure to talk with others about it, invite them to join you and, as they put it, 'enrol' them. I somehow have a problem with this - is it just me? The argument is: 'It's changed your life - don't you want others to be changed by it too?' My answer is 'Yes, but it hasn't changed me so much that I'm just brimming over with the need to talk about it all the time'. I have to make a real effort to 'enrol' someone, and it feels like pressure.

It reminds me of times when I was a young Christian and constantly heard the challenge to 'witness'. I felt guilty for years that I wasn't 'witnessing', but for a long time now I haven't worried about it. From time to time I meet people who are interested in Christianity, or in spirituality in general, and it's just natural to have an open and honest chat with them.

I have come to realise that the problem both with 'enrolling' and 'witnessing' is that one feels expected to be totally positive and upbeat about it. But I'm not like this. When talking with other people about anything, I tend to see both sides. When talking about my faith I share my frustrations about the Church, I understand why people have left it, and I'm honest about my doubts. In fact, the pattern of many of my sermons is to declare what the Bible passage says, then say 'That's all very well, but...', and go on to think about the questions it raises. When talking about the coaching programme I have been taking part in, I can't help sharing my reservations about some aspects of it, and sympathising with people who are put off by it. To be totally positive for the sake of enrolling others or for the sake of 'saving souls' seems to me dishonest and inauthentic.

What has this got to do with the Bible? A lot, actually. It seems to me that the biblical writers are not always upbeat. The Psalmists sometimes doubt whether God hears their prayers. Job can't believe that God rewards the good and inflicts suffering only on the wicked. Ecclesiastes questions whether there is any meaning in life at all. And they're all there in 'God's Word'!

If we believe God speaks to us through the Bible, then it seems God speaks through questions as well as answers, the negative as well as the positive, doubt as well as faith. The main challenge is to face the truth, however inconvenient, unpalatable or complex it may be, and in the long run other people are more inspired by that than by one-sided propaganda.

A Dialogue with Jesus

The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats in Matthew 25 is very popular, but it presents some problems, especially the bit at the end about 'eternal punishment', and the bit before that about sinners going to the fire prepared for the devil and his angels.

Just as prayer is listening to God as well as asking, so Bible reading can be asking as well as listening. On this principle I prepared the following 'dialogue sermon', in which I question Jesus and imagine what answers he might give:

Jesus, who is this Son of Man you are talking about? Is it you? And if so, why do you call yourself “Son of Man” rather than “Son of God”?


I leave you to judge that for yourselves. Look in the Scriptures. In the Book of Daniel you will find the vision of four great beasts that rule and terrorise the earth. Then “one like a son of man” appears, and God gives him “dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples and languages should serve him”. God explains the dream to Daniel, and says that the beasts are four great empires, but they will be destroyed and the rule over all the earth will be given to “the people of the holy ones of the Most High”.

So the Son of Man is the Jewish people?

So long as they are the holy ones of the Most High, yes. But if they are not holy, they won’t be fit to judge the nations. Perhaps I’ll have to do it for them. Or perhaps in the end there will another people that can do it.

So you don’t know?

Does that surprise you? Didn’t I say that no-one knows when the last judgment will take place, not the angels in heaven, not even the Son, but only God the Father? And didn’t I tell James and John that it was not for me to decide who will have the places of honour in the kingdom?

Then why did you tell this story?

What I want you to think about is not when the judgment will happen, or how it will happen, or even who will be in charge. It’s much more important to know the terms on which people will be judged. What I’m trying to say is that being the holy people of God is not a matter of saying the right prayers, or worshipping in the right temple, or even having the right religion. It’s a matter of how you treat the poorest and most needy of people – the hungry, the poor, the homeless, the sick, the prisoners. Do you do what you can to help them, or do you pass by on the other side?

But there too, Jesus, I have a problem. I don’t know whether I’m a sheep or a goat. I often help people. I give quite a lot of money to charities to help the hungry and the homeless. I visit people when they are sick. But I must confess I don’t always help everybody who needs help. Sometimes I see people begging on the street and I ignore them. I’ve got a spare room in my house, but I’ve never offered it to a homeless person, and I don’t think I ever would. I often spend money on a nice meal in a restaurant, though I know I could give it to help somebody who’s really hungry. So what does that make me? One of the sheep or one of the goats? And the same applies to practically everybody I know – they are all partly one and partly the other.

I know that perfectly well. My parable wasn’t about balancing one thing against another and totting up the good points and the bad points. What I’m saying is that every time you meet a person in need, whether they are poor or hungry or sick or in prison, you have a choice. At that moment you can take a step towards heaven or a step towards hell.

But Jesus, when you talk of “hell” that worries me. Do you really condemn people to eternal punishment?

What do you think? Would I urge people to love their enemies and forgive seventy times seven times, and then condemn people to an eternity of suffering for their sins? You mustn’t take these things too literally.

But why do you talk about eternal punishment at all? Doesn’t that frighten people?

Actually, when I told that story I did intend to frighten some people a bit. There were a lot of self-righteous people around who were so pernickety about obeying all the religious laws and yet never really cared about people. As I told them once, “You are so fussy about your tithes, even tithing the herbs you grow in your gardens, and you neglect the really important things like justice, mercy and faith”. And yet they were the very people who threatened others with hell fire for not living up to their standards. I wanted to say to them, “Alright, so let’s suppose there is a hell fire – who are the most likely people to be sent to it? Not ordinary common folk who break the Sabbath or get a bit drunk now and then, not even the adulterers and prostitutes you are so fond of condemning. Look at yourselves! Maybe you are the most likely candidates”.

Well, that would have really upset them. And they were the religious leaders of the Jewish people. It’s no wonder they got you crucified.

That was the price I had to pay. But remember that as they were crucifying me, I prayed that God would forgive them.

Jesus, that’s amazing! But if they were going to be forgiven anyway, why talk about hell?

Heaven and hell aren’t just prospects for the future after we die. We make our own heaven and hell here in this life. And what I’m saying in this parable is that if we make heaven or hell for others, we make it for ourselves as well. Every time we show mercy and love to someone in need, and recognise them as a fellow human being, we are helping to make this world a heaven. And every time we let someone go hungry or cold or lonely for want of care, the hell we put them into reflects back on ourselves. The hell that many of the Jewish people were living in when I told that story was brought about by lack of care, and it infected the whole nation. As you know, Jerusalem was destroyed in a terrible war forty years later.

So what you’re saying is that this parable was not meant for us. It was meant for the hypocritical Jewish leaders of your time.

Hey, hold on a minute! You can’t let yourselves off the hook as easily as that. Remember the beginning of the story. The Son of Man is judging all the nations, and the main point of the judgment is still the same. Are you feeding the hungry, refreshing the thirsty, clothing the naked, taking in strangers and visiting the sick and the prisoners, or are you not? Are you making a heaven of your world or a hell? In your world today, there are whole nations that call themselves “Christian”. Have you noticed that on the whole they tend to be the richest nations. Maybe they should ask themselves which side they are really on.

Thank you, Jesus. I think I understand a bit better now.

Thank you for asking questions. Keep trying to understand, but most of all keep living what I have taught you. And remember, I love you. Even if you give someone a cup of cold water, I notice it. God bless you!

Heavy Going

If we were to have a competition to find the most tedious and irrelevant chapter in the Bible, the seventh chapter of Numbers would be a strong candidate.
It describes the offerings brought to the tabernacle when it was dedicated. The leaders of the twelve tribes brought in their offerings on twelve consecutive days. There were silver plates, silver basins full of fine flour, gold dishes full of incense, and a number of bulls, lambs, rams and goats.
Again, the question arises: where did they get all this gold and silver in the middle of the desert, and where were the plates, basins and dishes made? But the most striking thing is that although all the twelve offerings were identical the list, which takes up five verses, is repeated word for word twelve times! I suppose the point was to show that all the twelve tribes had equal status, or perhaps it was originally meant to help people learn the list by heart - whoever it was who needed to know it by heart.
But what can we honestly say it means to us today? How do these plates and basins and dishes, and all these poor animals brought for slaughter 3000 years ago, have any interest for us? What benefit do we get from reading it, apart perhaps from training in patience?
Just before this, at the end of chapter 6, is the blessing that 'Aaron and his sons' were to give to the people, those beautiful words that are valued as much today as they were then: 'The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you: the LORD lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace'.
How can this and chapter 7 be equally 'the word of God'?

So that's where it comes from!

Right there in the middle of Leviticus, among all the complicated rules about sacrifices and priests and the extreme punishments to be meted out to sabbath breakers, not to mention adulterers and homosexuals, we suddenly find those immortal words that have always been regarded as the foundation of the Christian way of life: 'you shall love your neighbour as yourself' (Lev.19:18).
Coming a little later, not quite as well known and even less observed, is the command 'you shall love the alien as yourself' (v.34).
This chapter does say quite a lot about ordinary social justice, honesty, concern for the poor, and so on - something more relevant to life as we know it. But even here we have some peculiar and apparently arbitrary commandments. Immediately after 'love your neighbour as yourself' comes that odd command about not letting your animals breed with a different kind (no mules then!), sowing your field with two kinds of seed (does this apply to herbaceous borders too?), or wearing a garment made of two different materials (so it's out with most things we wear today!).
Leviticus is one of the clearest illustrations of the complex nature of Scripture, and indeed of religion in general - sublime truths and ideals mixed up with irrational and sometimes barbaric taboos. There is no alternative to being selective, and letting our conscience and common sense tell us what to choose and what to reject - Jesus himself did it.

An Interesting Bit

Leviticus 12 is interesting because of a link with the New Testament. It gives the rules for a woman's purification after childbirth. She has to bring a sacrifice of atonement for her 'uncleanness'. It should be a lamb and a pigeon or turtledove, but if she cannot afford a lamb she can bring two pigeons or turtledoves.
In Luke 2:24 we read that after the birth of Jesus Mary and Joseph went to the temple for her purification, taking 'a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons'. This indicates that they were relatively poor - a point often made in sermons.
But this raises at least two questions. First, why should a woman have to make a sacrifice to 'atone' for having given birth to a child? And secondly, how does this fit in with the Roman Catholic idea of the immaculate conception and perpetual virginity of Mary? Why did she, of all women, need to be purified?

The Holy Slaughterhouse

The first seven chapters of Leviticus are also a bit of a fag to read. They give all the rules for the offering of the various sacrifices - sin offerings, thank offerings, whole burnt offerings etc etc. Then the eighth chapter describes how Aaron and his sons were ordained as priests (more sacrifices), and the ninth describes how they made all these sacrifices, and then the glory of God descended on the Tabernacle and the fire of God consumed the burnt offerings.
We get all the details about killing the animals, removing the fat and the offal, what to do with the blood and so on. It looks a bit like a butcher's manual. If you are squeamish and really think about what you are reading, it's all a bit sickening. It makes you wonder whether, if the Temple was restored today, modern Jews would want to go back to all that.
We tend to think of a place of worship as somewhere clean and quiet, with a peaceful atmosphere. But the Temple in its heyday was evidently flowing with the blood of rams, bulls, goats and all sorts, not to mention the noise they all must have made when they were dragged in and slaughtered. It was certainly no religion for vegetarians!
Again, I can't help asking: how, for Christians today, can this be the word of God?

B-O-R-I-N-G!

My reading through the Bible has slowed down a bit recently, but I've now got to the end of Exodus. Reading through the last six chapters was hard work. It's a description of the building and furnishing of the Tabernacle - loads of gold, silver, linen, silk, scarlet and purple. How did they find it all in the desert? The probable answer of course is that this is really a description of Solomon's temple read back into the desert days.
But my reaction is: do we really want to know all this? Even to the description of the pans, shovels and washing bowls, repeated three times - first planned, then made, then dedicated - there is so much unwanted information.
This is one of my problems with talking of the Bible as the Word of God. I can cope with its scientific and historical inaccuracy. I can understand how some people cope with the morally questionable parts by talking of 'progressive revelation'. But what about those vast stretches that are simply irrelevant? Is there anything in the last six chapters of Exodus that has anything to say about morality, the meaning of life, the nature of God or the gospel? If not, how can it be the word of God?
I don't recall ever hearing a sermon on it!